


Removing the Mask

by Emberblaze



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Loki's helmet is a magic source, M/M, Others are background - Freeform, Thor doesn't really listen, i can't write smut so i won't, main ship is loki/tony, probably ooc but i'm trying, so if that isn't what you're looking for I'm sorry, updates are sporatic i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 16:11:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15004541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emberblaze/pseuds/Emberblaze
Summary: TONY STARK ISN'T known for being the most rational person.Something about his kidnapping had broken something inside of him, not that that was in any way surprising. But Tony being Tony, he decides that the only therapy for him can be found at the bottom of a glass. No one, not even Pepper and her new girlfriend, can pull him out of what he's in.But it turns out looking after a god of mischief can be surprisingly distracting.LOKI HAS GOTTEN Thor mad-- again.It's not even his fault this time, but Thor was a bit hammer-happy this time, which unfortunately ended up with the god of mischief being shoved off of the Bifrost.And now Loki is trapped on blasted MIDGARD, despite the fact that he's way to early for his conquering plan, and to make things worse, there's some primitive man trying to study his helmet.As if he needed another reason to hate humans...





	1. A Quiet Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems that Tony gravitates to alcohol whenever the memories get to strong. And it turns out a drunk Iron Man is not a good thing.
> 
> Or,
> 
> Tony is Tony, at least on a flirtatious level.

Tony Stark first met the god of mischief when he was at a bar.

It wasn’t an uncommon event for the man of iron. He visited the New York bar in question weekly, if not more often, and he even had his own unofficial seat that, while not always empty, would be swiftly vacated if he entered the room. Someone had carved “I <3 Iron Man” into the back of it, which Tony internally found a bit off-putting but simply accepted it good-naturedly.

That message had appeared months ago, and was the last thing on Tony’s mind as he slammed the empty glass on the table. Someone behind him clapped, and Tony turned and winked in that general direction. His hair was slightly ruffled and his tie a bit askew, but other than that he looked quite sober.

“You know,” commented the bartender, leaning over the bar slightly to talk to the businessman, “I’m always surprised by how much alcohol you can take.”

Tony Stark grinned. “After all this time?”

The man shrugged, a half-smile crossing his face. “Most businessmen, in my experience, can’t handle more than a sixteen-year-old would before losing their intellect.”

Tony pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and slid them on, a smirk sliding on with them. “Well, I’m drinking for two men.”

“Cheers to that!” called out someone, and there were cheers of agreement. There was a clinking of glasses and a couple sputters from people who chose an especially strong drink.

There was a scraping sound next to him as someone pulled up a stool next to him. Tony turned his head to see who it was.

A woman with long, wavy dark hair met his gaze boldly, her head ducked just the smallest bit so that she looked up at him. She wore a blue dress which shape Tony rather appreciated. A slow smile spread across her face, and she lifted a finger to twirl into her hair.

“I’ve always wanted to meet Iron Man.” Her voice was lower than Tony had expected, but it was in no way unpleasant.

“It’s your lucky day then, isn’t it?”

She smiled, her deep red lips a contrast to her dress of deep blue. “Oh, no question,” she agreed. She paused, letting her elbow rest against the table. “Care for a drink? It’s on me.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s my line, sweetheart,” he replied. “But how can I say now to a beautiful lady like you?”

She smiled again. “You flatter me.” She tapped the countertop sharply with her knuckles. “Two drinks. A bellini for me, and...what would you like, handsome?”

Tony leaned forward and let his hand brush hers slightly, smirking as he saw her shiver in reaction. “A martini,” he replied. “The usual mixing.”

The bartender nodded. “You got it. Who’s paying?”

The woman slid two twenties over the countertop. “That would be me.” She paused, then added, “Keep the change.”

The man nodded, taking the money and slipping it into the register. “Your drinks should be coming right up,” he called.

The woman turned to look at Stark, letting her chin rest on the back of her hand. “I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself,” she said.

Tony tilted his head. “You haven’t.”

She laughed. “Well, there’s no question you’re Tony Stark,” she commented, and Tony wasn’t sure what she meant by that. “My name is Lillian.”

“Nice name,” Tony replied. He pushed his sunglasses up slightly on his nose, causing her to smirk slightly in response.

“You wearing those for a fashion statement?” she asked, gesturing to his face.

“No, I felt like I’d go blind if I looked at you directly.”

Lillian’s cheeks almost seemed to flush slightly, but with the lighting, Tony couldn’t be sure. “Why don’t you take those off and let me heat you up?”

Tony knew that she was flirting, that she meant nothing by the comment, but the words heat and the image in his mind of the blazing sun caused a blinding pain to shoot through his head. His throat was suddenly dry and scratchy, and he swallowed before clearing his throat. “I would’ve thought you were water with that gorgeous dress you’re wearing,” he said, trying to regain his composure.

To her credit, Lillian seemed to have noticed that something about her words had rubbed Tony the wrong way, as an expression of worry and almost fear flashed across her face for the briefest of seconds before switching back into a self-confident smile. She twirled a curl of hair around her finger and asked, “So, Iron Man, got your suit with you?”

Tony tapped the briefcase under his school lightly with his foot, about to respond honestly, then remembered that he’d only just met this woman. “No, it’s getting a couple paint touch-ups,” he lied smoothly.

Lillian pouted. “I was hoping to see you in action.” Her posture and expression were of exaggerated disappointment, yet her voice was light and teasing.

Tony smirked. “You like trouble?”

Lillian laughed lightly. “More than you could ever imagine.”

“Well, you’re hanging around the right guy,” Tony informs her.

She lets her chin rest on her hand. “I certainly am.”

The drinks were suddenly in front of them, and Tony reached for his almost without looking. He smiled at Lillian and took a swallow of the alcohol--probably more than he should have--and the rest of the bar seemed to follow suit. There were clinks of glass on the counter as several people finished their drinks, and a couple of drinkers called out to the bartender, who still stood in front of the businessman and Lillian.

“Coming!” The bartender turned to Tony Stark and gave him a mock salute. “You’re good for business,” he commented.

Stark winked, downing the rest of his drink in a single gulp. “That’s my job, isn’t it?”

“Want another drink?”

Tony gazed at the empty glass in front of him before shrugging. “Why not?”

There was a crash from outside, and Tony spun around to look out the window. For a moment, he thought he saw a flash of multi-colored light, but it vanished almost immediately.

“Cancel the drink,” he told the bartender, waving his hand.

Lillian laughed lightly, though Tony could have sworn her gaze darkened as he pulled out his briefcase. “I guess I will be getting my wish.”

“Ah, duty calls,” the man replied. “Good luck, Iron Man.”

Tony laughed, popping the case open with the back of his foot. He stuck his hands into the gloves and stepped into the foot smoothly, letting the armor cover his body quickly. “Since when do I need luck?”

The mask of the man of iron slid shut, the lights of the eyes turned on, and Iron Man shot out of the bar to investigate the source of the crash.


	2. A Drunken Mirage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony doesn't exactly make the best decisions, and alcohol doesn't help him out with those.
> 
> Or,
> 
> Tony takes Loki home despite not knowing him.

Iron Man wasn’t as surprised as he should have been at the sight of a man lying unconscious on the ground on the sidewalk.

That sight by itself, anyway, wouldn’t have really been anything unusual. No, what made this particularly strange was that the man in question was wearing an outfit that looked like it belonged in a cosplay convention, along with a golden helmet with two long horns that seemed to protrude from the front of it laying on its side, slightly dented and dusty, a few feet in front of the man.

Yet even that paled in comparison to the state of the man himself. Though not many external injuries were on the man, he did have three deep slash marks down his back. Much worse, though, was the fact that he had two marks on him that seemed to look like he had been hit by a bolt of lightning. 

Tony Stark knelt down next to the man, who was lying with his cheek flat against the concrete. His hair looked like it had been slicked back before it had been thrown in disarray by some sort of fight, and it was jet black in color.

_ I should take him to a hospital _ , Tony thought. That would certainly make the most sense and be the easiest solution to the problem. Despite his curiosity on how the mysterious man had gotten these strange injuries-- both slash marks and a lightning strike--not all mysteries would be solved. If he was so curious, he could call up the hospital in the morning when the man woke up.

Tony scooped the man up carefully, making sure not to touch his back. He wasn’t exactly sure how safe it was to carry someone upside down, but he feared that his armor could further cut into the wound. He almost took off before remembering the helmet that lay on the sidewalk, quickly leaning down to pick it up.

As he grasped hold of it, its image flickered slightly, and Tony almost dropped it in surprise. He scanned the area, his visor scanning for any strange activity that could have caused the phenomenon-- strange heat areas, a flickering light-- but there was nothing. He glanced down at the man in his arms and let out a small “oh” of surprise as he realized the man was doing the same thing.

The clothes, which he had previously thought looked pristine, were suddenly charred and burned black in several places. The marks were suddenly oozing blood, and the helmet in Tony’s hand seemed to almost twitch in his hand.

It was only an extreme amount of self-control that prevented Tony from dropping the man completely in surprise, along with his usual sense of invulnerability. Still...Tony’s arm shook slightly as his mind raced. 

He gently placed the man down-- or tried to, at least. Apparently the alcohol  _ had  _ affected him, causing him to misjudge the distance and drop the man at least four inches. Tony winced as the man’s head whacked against the ground. 

He had to be drunk. That was the most plausible situation. And yet...Tony couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Maybe the flickering was the alcohol, but the bizarre getup couldn’t be. And weird vision wouldn’t make the wounds suddenly start bleeding, either.

If there was anything out of the ordinary, the hospital couldn’t help. Well, obviously they couldn’t help with fading or with people falling out of the sky--

Tony’s head throbbed, and he awkwardly attempted to rub it through his suit, which just resulted in him looking idiotic.  _ God. _ He should just take the man to his penthouse and figure it out when he was sober.

And without thinking any further-- without wondering if maybe, just maybe, the hospital should handle the random unconscious, struck-by-lightning bleeding man laying outside of a bar, Tony did something reckless but, if he was honest with himself, not that out of character-- he dropped a random stranger on his couch and passed out in his room.

\----------

Morning came in the form of a agonizing migraine.

Tony’s eyes opened with a groan, struggling to focus on the ceiling above him, and he clasped his hands to his (strangely geometrical) face. Lights seemed to flash in his vision, and he wondered absently if he was going to pass out again. A few moments passed as he lay there, feeling sorry for himself, before he got up abruptly to the creaking of joints (what was that about?) and stumbled to the bathroom.

His hand fumbled for the faucet handle, and he somehow managed to grasp it clumsily. The water poured out, sounding like a waterfall to his headache-ridden brain, and he looked up at the mirror.

And groaned.

He was in his full suit. Why that had happened he had no idea. Why was even wearing his suit last night? Did something happen?

_ That _ does _ explain the sore muscles, _ he thought.  _ The sore  _ everything _ , really. _

Tony shut off the water angrily, his headache now the last thought in his mind, and walked back to his room, wondering where the hell he left his suitcase. Finding it, he flipped it open, stepped into it, and let his armor collapse into it. He slumped down on his bed, exhausted.

_ I said I wouldn’t do this again. I promised myself. I promised Pepper. _

Tony raked his hands through his hair.  _ What did I do? _ He went back, trying to remember why the hell he was drinking in the first place, but he realized there was really no need. The only reason he’d go to the bar was if he was remembering the cave and the desert. Which happened a lot.

_ What’d I do then? Show off for some chick? _ He couldn’t think of any other reason he would be in his suit.

He stripped off his wrinkled suit clothes, discarding them in favor of an outfit he found more casual-- there was no chance in hell he’d be going out anywhere today. So he’d just stay home, reevaluate his life choices, maybe invite Pepper over--

Tony walked out of the room, and stopped short.

A man with long black hair was sitting on his couch, looking fairly murderous. He spoke with an accent that Tony couldn’t quite place (was it British?), but that was the least of his worries. 

The man stood up. “Who are you?” he asked in a voice that sounded smooth but with acid burning beneath the surface. “And where is my helmet?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is Ember, and this is my first even Marvel fanfiction! I hope you enjoy it! If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to point them out! Also, this should be theoretically be posted once per week, so make sure to check for updates!
> 
> Update on that: my brother died recently so this is becoming a bit of a coping mechnaism. Due to that, my schedule is a bit non-existent, though I am definitely going to keep writing this. Just know it might be a sudden spam followed by a long gap...
> 
> I suck, I know.


End file.
